


Blink and You Swiss It

by 2towels



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Keith (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Bob's Burgers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dad Shiro (Voltron), Flustered Keith (Voltron), It's a Bob's Burgers AU, Kid Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Keith (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron), Restaurant Owner Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Shiro is Bob., making up all these tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2towels/pseuds/2towels
Summary: With his son just beginning his new school and their hamburger restaurant finally opened, Shiro is ready to face the roles of doting father, friendly neighbor, suave restaurateur, and every combination of the three no matter how demanding the task at hand. The orders are tall and sometimes the specifics of the jobs leave him feeling a little fried, but at the end of his shifts he gets to spend his nights helping his son with homework or listening to him talk about boys, and that's worth any nap in the world.Besides, what kind of chef would he be if he couldn't handle a lot on his plate?





	Blink and You Swiss It

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Father's Day! It's (almost over) two days late but I've had this idea forever and after I saw season 6 I wanted to do something for Shiro for Father's Day because I wanted to post soon, and this seemed like the funnest thing to focus on because I don't have an AU that's MORE Father Shiro-friendly than this fic!
> 
> I made a cute little visual for Shiro and Keith [here](https://2towels.tumblr.com/post/175029076012/i-have-a-fun-little-surprise-for-yall-thats-only) (it's just a sketch but if i get my tablet working I'll update it with everyone else ♥)
> 
> Anyway, this is blatantly a Bob's Burgers AU with Shiro owning a restaurant with his adoptive son Keith, and it won't have a very regular update schedule because it'll be told in a pseudo-episodic format. That is, each chapter will function sort of as an independent episode within the same universe with small tie-ins to previous episodes, eventually reaching a sort of series finale style ending as I close the universe up. It was just more fun and would clog up my AO3 dashboard less if I put it all on the same multi-chapter fic episode by episode this way instead of separating each. Much more simply stated, it's a really lengthy one-shot series fic lmao
> 
> ANYWAY ANYWAY I really love the idea of adoptive father Shiro and son Keith and this was a lot of fun to write so I know I'm rambling more than usual but this has been a long-term project of mine sitting in my drafts I finally buckled down on and I hope you all enjoy!

                _Shiro’s Burgers’_ very first customer was a nine-year-old with a lion’s mane of brown hair who slapped three dollars onto his meticulously cleaned counters and spit out, “Fries, please,” while she peered over the linoleum surface she could barely seem to reach.

                Keith, thrown off by her demeanor despite his thorough training, handled their very first customer with a twelve-year-old’s acidity, “Where are your parents?”

                “Buzz off.” The little lion said, “I want to speak to your manager.” Her small hand shoved the bills further onto the counter, and she hefted herself into a stool that was as tall as her shoulders, climbing like a squirrel. Shiro felt his nose crinkle at the sound of her squeaky sneakers dragging against the metal bars.

Keith called his name, though it was unnecessary as he had been watching the entire spectacle through the grill window. With a deep sigh at the luck of their first draw, he slid to the front counter and put on his warmest smile for the little girl. “What can I help you with?”

“You’re the manager?” The lion asked dubiously, and Shiro nodded, “Your waiter is rude. I want to place an order for fries.”

“One order of fries, coming right up. Our waiter here’s name is Keith, and he’s not so bad if you get to know him.” Shiro tried widening his smile to build an effectively trusting connection between them, used to somewhat difficult kiddos, but the young lady was unfazed.

“I don’t have to get to know my waiters, they just shouldn’t be rude.” Keith abandoned the counter to aggressively refill the napkins at table one, which had not had a napkin taken from it yet anyway.

“I’ll give him a stern talking to, then. Thank you for letting me know.” Shiro then politely attempted, “I’ll be right out with your fries.” With the girl’s nod he left, and in the moment it took him to reach the grill and fryer and position himself at the window again, he noticed the girl had procured a ballpoint pen from the depths of her pockets, flipped over her paper placemat, and started scribbling things vigorously along the blank back, seeming deeply focused.

Keith, when he returned from table one to his position behind the counter once more, stared Shiro down with what could only be defined as irritated reservation. Shiro smiled and pantomimed a drinking glass as he dropped the fryer, and Keith recognized to offer the child a drink with a soft jump into action.

While Shiro arranged a fresh batch of fries into a basket he readied himself to be sure to let it cool down a fair few minutes, not trusting such a young girl with fries so hot and fresh out of the fryer, but the polite conversation he was going to start with the girl to distract her in the waiting was interrupted by a young man with a lion’s mane of brown hair bursting through the door. He waved three dollars in the air and slapped them onto the little girl’s placemat with a hearty, “Fries, please!”

The girl squawked and shifted the money towards Keith—who accepted it in trade for her glass of ice water—and went immediately back to her scribbling while the near identical man tugged at her wild locks and tried to tuck some behind her ears. “I would also like all of the ketchup you have.” He said seriously, “All of it, on top of the fries.”

“No!” The girl said suddenly, “Don’t put it on top!” Her face twisted into wicked disgust, and Shiro couldn’t hide his laughter as he started another batch and handed Keith the first through their little window.

Keith silently and rationally handed two ketchup dispensers to the man before he retrieved the girl’s fries, and the man waved through the window at the sight of Shiro and began speaking enthusiastically, “Hey! Has this little genius caused any problems yet? I know it’s only been a few minutes but she’s downright ruthless—aren’t you, Pidge?” He turned to the girl to admire her sticking her tongue out at him and returning to her frantic work, “I’m in charge of her and I’m right next door at the research lab,” he jolted a thumb out over his shoulder, and Shiro thought on the dark blue building he passed so often, “so if anything happens don’t hesitate to let me know!”

“She asked for a manager already.” Keith supplied, immediately looking to Shiro as if to make sure what he said was okay. Shiro nodded in passing.

“Pidge, who even taught you to do that?” The other man said privately and much quieter as Shiro brought the fries out himself.

He followed up the fries with a neighborly offering of a handshake and a warm smile to the confused man, “She’s been a great first customer so far. Very friendly. I’m Shiro, nice to meet you.”

The man blinked at the metallic hand but held back no grin. “ _The_ Shiro of Shiro’s Burgers? What an honor! I’m Matt. This little gremlin is Pidge.” His handshake was quick and jostling, and he tore into his fries immediately following, speaking around them as he continued, “I only get a fifteen because technically I’m still an intern—not like my parents own the company or anything, it’s fine—but she might wander over here a lot because she gets bored down at the wharf and the nearest park is too far for her to go alone, so if that’s ever a problem I’m legally obligated right now to pay for the damages.” Despite his enthusiasm and reckless sort of carrying of himself, he seemed like he was doing right by the warning to the establishment.

“My name is _Katie_.” The little girl stuck her hand out despite Shiro not initially having offered it, and her handshake was just as jostling, despite her size, as her companion’s. “Matt, where are my colored pencils?” Sharp hazel eyes cut straight into the side of her brother’s face.

“Same place you left your glasses, you nut.” He said with a mouthful of potato. From where he had toed himself away at the end of the bar, Keith wrinkled his nose but kept quiet, busying his hands with shuffling menus. Ruthlessly, Pidge shoved her hand into the pocket of Matt’s pants nearest to her side and procured, through some Mary Poppins-esque miracle, a seventy-two pack of colored pencils and a plastic glasses case. Matt seemed completely unaffected by the depths of his storage, and the little girl methodically unfolded gigantic frames for her size and tucked them closely behind her ears, using the cloth buried in the case to rub at the edge of one lens dutifully. They seemed to magnify her curious and sharp eyes, making her all the cuter despite that wild look.

“Okay, well,” Shiro started humbly, unable to resist a smile at the duo, “Thank you for the warning, let me or my son, Keith, here know if you need anything.” He moved to head back to the grill but it wasn’t a single step before the bell above the entrance door was jingling again. In swept a pair of pre-teens, and for a moment Shiro dreaded all the possible interactions that could go down with rowdy children on his first day, but the train of thought quickly ended when Keith turned around the corner of the bar and caught sight of the two, both grinning and jostling one another. The entirety of the menu pile he had been shuffling spilled from his hands, and he froze in place.

The smaller, almost wiry looking of the two swept forward first, and Keith slowly crouched to pick everything up, but his son’s continued wide-eyed stare did not escape Shiro’s notice. Keith wasn’t the type…to take interest in people, Shiro knew that above much else, and if he was noticing kids his age it was huge for him starting school the next day. Minor miracles. The larger boy who had followed in was right after his companion, and they both handed Keith the remaining menus with pleasant smiles.

The soft silence of Keith’s unwavering stare was broken when the smaller boy whipped his head around, pointed a finger straight to Shiro’s face, and called, “Welcome to the neighborhood! My mom said to say hi but you’re our rival right now, so keep that in mind! Freasent pliendly—I mean friendly pleasantries! Will have to be ignored for now!”

“Hi, Pidge.” The other boy said softly, waving at the young girl and getting an almost frantic wave back as Pidge neared the end of her place setting. Matt choked on his fries watching the boys and laughed when his throat was clear.

“My name’s Shiro.” Shiro tried with a bright smile at the enthusiasm, hoping to lower them to inside voices and holding out his hand, “It’s nice to meet a new neighbor.” He was, above all else, experienced in children who did the unexpected. The only thing he’d put on his resume these days, really. Keith was still stuck frozen at the end of the bar, they’d have to talk about that.

The boy seemed to falter at the friendliness, but his grin only dimmed to a confused sort of smile before it dropped completely. “Don’t try to trick me, you can’t run us out of business, we have good food!”

Seeming to look around, the boy on his flank clambered onto a bar stool and said, in as polite a tone as Shiro had ever heard, bless his heart, “Hello, my name is Hunk. Can I order your burger of the day?”

“’Course you can, champ.” Shiro shook his hand instead, “Just give me a few minutes to get that started.”

“Hunk!” The other boy whispered poorly, hopping onto the stool next to him, “We talked about this!”

Hunk only shrugged, and from the end of the counter Keith firmly and slowly put down the stack of menus, looked dead into Shiro’s eyes. Very seriously, he said, “Shiro, can I please see you in the kitchen now? Code yellow.”

Unsure whether to be surprised or not, Shiro nodded and glanced at the loud boy one last time. “Can I get you one, too, bud? Didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s Lance.” Matt supplied, “These two are also local menaces, spot them looking for lions at the carnival and dancing on the beach or whatever they do, the whole shebang. Who knows what their next adventure is.”

“Matt!” Lance hissed, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter solely to pout, “You’re so weird.”

Finishing her paper and reaching for Matt’s, Pidge emphatically supplied, “I _kept_ telling mom that we should have gotten a dog.”

Matt looked completely unsurprised at the comment, finishing his fries and scooping up the paper Pidge had finished. “ _More_ coding? I just taught you this, and you’ve already had your two hours of screen time, were you just going to save this for tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Good-bye, sister. I’m stealing this to plug when Slav isn’t looking. Please be nice to the neighbors.” Shiro waved him good-bye but he seemed to twirl out of the shop in a bit of a frenzy, placemat half sticking out of his pocket.

“Yeah, I’ll have a burger, Mr. Shiro.” Lance said suddenly and quietly, wide eyes glued to the blackboard’s announcement of today’s _Blink and You’ll Swiss It Burger,_ though he did seem a tad reluctant.

“Two burgers, coming up.”

“ _Shiro._ ” Keith whispered harshly, the ignorance of the code not missing him in the slightest. A little briskly, Shiro rushed to comply, and it was no sooner than the kitchen door swung behind him and Keith that his son turned his brooding eyes to his elder, looking pathetically sullen and suddenly wizened, and said, “I think I have to quit. I’m turning in my apron.”

Had it been any other child, Shiro might have thought twice, but Keith wasn’t one for jokes so he kindly looked down at his son and adjusted the strap of the younger’s apron around his neck before he could begin pulling it off. “Why’s that, buddy?” He asked kindly and immediately.

                Keith’s eyes had a dart to them, flicking away at the question and towards the open grill window. Despite being unable to see anyone from the angle, he still shook his head, untrusting, and Shiro ruffled his hair gently, willing a calm smile. “It’s okay, Keith. You can tell me what’s wrong no matter what.”

                “I’ll be unproductive.” The boy said with resolve, looking down and taking a deep breath, each word a deep pain to him. There was a shuffling noise beyond the door and Shiro had the urge to make sure somebody was on the other side watching the three other kids out there, but Keith’s comfort was always more of a concern for him, and he crouched a little to be level with his son just so he understood that.

                “You can’t quit,” He started carefully, “But you can go upstairs if you’re not feeling up to it or if you’re tired.”

                Keith looked uncertain, pressing himself against the swinging door and jumping as it shifted. “He’s so pretty, Shiro.” He blurted suddenly, slapping his hands over his face. Through his small fingers, his father could see the harsh reddening on his cheeks and the deep, determined pinch in his eyebrows, embarrassment clear.

                “Oh.” Shiro heard himself say more than he recognized voicing, though he wasn’t particularly surprised. In the last six months Shiro and Keith had been together, house hunting and bonding and becoming familiar with one another’s antics, Keith had never really expressed interest in kids his age, let alone crushes on any. It was bound to happen eventually, and Shiro was certain it wouldn’t hurt. “Buck up there, Keith.” He decided on encouragingly, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder again, “You’re going to let a cute boy get in the way of your favorite job? On your first day? Go out there and talk to him.”

                Keith began viciously shushing Shiro, shoving his hands forward to clasp over his father’s mouth as the younger pushed them further into the kitchen to get a better angle and see out of the grill window, forcing Shiro out of his crouch so he wouldn’t fall. Lance and Hunk were past the threshold balancing straws on their noses beside Pidge, who stole both of their placemats as well and was finishing off her fries thoughtfully. “Don’t let him hear you.” Keith hissed, voice unsurprisingly filled with hot embarrassment still. When he looked back at his father, he gulped loudly and his gaze flicked to the floor a moment before finding steely resolve and straightening his shoulders. “We’ll stay at Code Yellow,” Keith explained very seriously, and Shiro nodded just as understanding, “but I’ll go back out. You need to start their burgers so we can compete.”

                “Keith—Wait,” Shiro tried, not wanting his son to get the wrong ideas of competition with the neighbors, but Keith was bursting out of the door again, retying his apron with a determination. “Okay.” He finished to himself, moving to the grill and throwing two patties down to begin the burgers while he kept a close eye. Keith’s face was red entirely, but he was able to hold almost too-firm eye-contact with Hunk, asking for their drinks and nodding patiently when Lance took a while to decide on his. Pidge finished her fries and let Keith clean up her basket and refill her water, and Shiro silently hoped they would get an influx of customers soon to at least constitute a steady lunch rush and bring some promise. It was still a little early.

                A man walked in, balancing a small tablet in his hand and typing frantically at it while he sat, and the distraction was enough to set Keith into a pouty-faced Work Mode, which Shiro was both grateful for and fond of.

 

* * *

 

                Keith sat at the end of Shiro’s bed in the dim lighting with an exasperation deep settled into him. No alarm was sounding, but Keith was already fully awake and alert, backpack ready in the living room and packed with all of his essentials for the rest of the day. Shiro snored loudly all of the time, and then was no exception, so Keith wondered if it was a trait people acquired as they got older and white-haired as Shiro was or if some people were more naturally inclined to snort and snuff the way he did. When Shiro rolled over and grumbled at the discomfort of his stubbed arm underneath the weight of his shoulder, Keith stood with a resolve and set to nudge him awake insistently.

                It took great effort, but bleary and bag-ridden brown eyes creeped open. “What’s up, big guy? Nightmare?” Shiro slurred, his mouth barely moving but his arm rising to make room on the bed if Keith needed to crawl in to sit next to him.

                Feeling his face heat in both indignation and embarrassment, Keith huffed out a quick, “No!” and crossed his arms as Shiro settled his hand on Keith’s arm in a warm and familiar way that let him know there was nothing to be ashamed of.

                “What’s up then?” The tired man hummed, sitting up half of the way and using his elbow to prop him up. He sent a roving look over Keith’s person as soon as he did before frowning. “Did you sleep in your day clothes again?”

                Keith looked at the ceiling, holding his hands in front of him as if grasping for the point of this conversation. “Pajamas are a waste of time. I’m ready faster this way. You promised you would make my lunch and if you don’t wake up now there’s not going to be enough time.” A little quieter, but refusing to back out of the conversation, Keith asked, “Did you forget?”

                “Nope.” Shiro smiled, sitting up fully so he would have the balance to ruffle Keith’s hair with his hand. As he did, the alarm of his phone began pinging, and he grinned. “See? I’m up.” His inky hair spilled over his shoulders in a right mess, but he looked unconcerned, rubbing the eternal stubble at his chin before he shut off the insistent noises from the device. “You’ve got to start sleeping in your pajamas, though, bud. Why’d I buy you those cool rocket pants if not? Hey—” He looked at his desk across the room in wonder, then at the other side of his bed where he least rolled, “My arm?”

                Keith groaned, “It’s in the bathroom, come on. The rocket pants are for movie nights.”

                Shiro stood with a groan worthy of a fatherly figure, stomach scratches and all as he walked past Keith and out of the dim room towards their small bathroom. “Life’s a million times more comfy if you don’t wear jeans to bed, Keith. Go change your shirt.”

                “It’s _clean,_ all I did was sleep in it!” He squawked, arms crossed tightly.

                While he fastened his prosthetic onto his residual limb, Shiro tried to look as tame as possible when leveling Keith with a look that told him it was non-negotiable. “It’s rumpled because you slept in it. Go get something without wrinkles for your first day.” His nose twitched as he set the arm in place and latched it, and Keith looked away, not having the confidence yet to ask if it was painful but feeling like he knew the answer. As soon as both of Shiro’s arms were flexed and stretched, Keith watched as he began pulling his locks into a bun, and jumped when he turned to look at him again. “Change.” He bid again, a final warning in his voice Keith knew better than to not heed.

 

* * *

 

                Keith decided everything about new schools was frustrating no matter any new factors a long time ago, and Altea was no exception—but then his locker was next to Lance’s, whose locker was above Hunk’s, and it suddenly felt like a big and important new factor of an exception. Keith slammed his own closed as soon as he heard Lance’s voice rounding the corner into the same space as him, wondering if he was allowed to trade lockers, to go to a different hall entirely, but his horror was only amplified when Lance had pointed at him from the end of their row and boasted, “Woah! Rival alert!”

                “Lance.” Hunk admonished lightly, waving as they approached. “Hey. You never told us your name.” His tone was a little hurt but he had a smile on his face that reminded Keith of Shiro, so he didn’t feel any threats and looked away to his closed locker again.

                “I was working.” He tried to explain, shrugging his bag onto his back and holding the straps tighter to ground him a little. He couldn’t look at Lance, feeling a gross need to as he saw the other boy’s smile out of the corner of his eye and him reach his locker, right aside Keith’s own.

                Hunk said, “Hey, we’re all locker neighbors! Cool!” And crouched to shove Lance’s legs over to reach his own locker.

                Lance fumbled and bumped into Keith’s shoulders a little, and Keith made the mistake of looking directly into his face. There was a tiny zit under his left eye, both of them wide open and staring directly into Keith’s own hard gaze, and Lance grumbled out a, “So, are you going to tell us your name, or what?”

                “Keith.” He spat, taking a few steps back and whipping his face away. He felt hot and his chest felt tight and he wanted it to be the last period already but it was only just after lunch and there was the faint taste of peanut butter clogging his throat.

                “O-kay.” Lance dragged, turning away to unlock his locker. When Keith awkwardly got lost in his temper and stood there a moment longer, hands still tight on his backpack straps, Lance granted a little friendlier expression of, “I like your lion.”

                Hunk stood with a pained look on his face and patted Lance on the back as he walked away. Keith blinked, “Huh?” Lance tapped his chest, and Keith looked down to the shirt he’d thrown on this morning, a circus commemorating t-shirt featuring a leaping lion and the year in bold numbers. “Oh. You—Your shirt looks good on you. Too.”

                Something seemed to dazzle in Lance’s eyes as he closed his locker again, grinning at Keith. “ _Thank_ you, Rival Keith. I think it brings out my glowing complexion but Hunk thought I sounded weird when I said that so I’m glad you think so.”

                “I do. It does.” Keith said, not knowing what a complexion was at all. He spun on his heel as Lance’s grin widened and a dimple poked on either side of it into his cheeks. Keith’s own felt like absolute fire. “Bye.”

                “Oh.” He heard behind him but refused to turn.

 

* * *

 

                Only two steps down the stairs of Altea, Keith was accosted by a gangly boy with purple painted on the tips of his hair and a long nose. “Hey.” The gangly boy said, lightly jostling Keith by his backpack strap and dragging him into the fenced area of the playground to the side. There was a crooked smile on his face, and Keith wondered how old he was or if he was being kidnapped, because he definitely didn’t look exactly Keith’s age and he was in one of the higher grades at Altea. “Heard something interesting about you, kid. What’s your name?”

                “It’s Keith.” Keith growled, eyes wide and trying to remember all of Shiro’s mantras at once. None of them seemed to apply to weird and upfront manhandling from kids that might not be his age, but Keith’s only other instincts were to get defensive and angry, which were also not part of Shiro’s mantras or approvals. “What do you want?”

                At the bite in his voice, the older kid stopped, and Keith caught eyes with Pidge on the swing set a few feet from him. A little green flip phone was in her hand that she looked like she was playing with, but she was watching Keith’s own predicament with interest. All around the playground, when he glanced, kids were starting to look up, and Keith knew the signs enough to feel a sweat break out on the back of his neck.

                “Don’t get all pissy, dude!” The older kid said, unzipping Keith’s backpack without his permission and holding a hand down on his shoulder when Keith tried to jerk away. “Wait just a second. So, I heard a fun little rumor about the new kid and…yup. Here it is.” From the depths, before Keith could twist around and seize the nasty invader to his privacy, the gangly kid procured a worn and frayed hippopotamus plushie. He gripped it in a gross hand and Keith felt hot embarrassment and anger rise to every inch of his skin, fingers clenching. “Yeah, so this is hilarious because everyone was losing their minds over this little thing. I just wanted to do you a favor and take this off your hands, because you’re a big kid now. Can you be a big kid without your little dolly?” His voice was condescending and Keith knew the sound well, shoving the free hand that reached towards him away and trying to swipe at Armstrong while he could.

                “Give him back.” Keith growled, feeling the circle around him of kids and a vice grip on his temper begin to close sharper and sharper. His nails bit into his palms.

                “Nah.” The older kid said, shrugging his own backpack off and tucking Armstrong into the mystery of it. “I’m going to keep it for now and you can grow up a little.” The calm in his voice amplified the chaos in Keith’s head, watching as he zipped his bag closed and then leaned over to zip Keith’s closed again as well. “No more dolls, okay? Maybe if you shape up a little on the cool factor you’ll even get to skate with me someday, short stack.” His hand reached Keith’s cowlicks this time, and Keith swung to catch his wrist, fangs bared.

                Kids began chanting as much and as well as they always did, but it stopped as soon as it started, a man Keith recognized as the one who’d given him a tour this morning bursting into the circle and shooing them. Keith watched the older gangly kid duck away with a sly smile and disappear into the crowd, feeling frozen and emptied, and a majority of the other kids followed in turn, scurrying home for the day.

                He started walking home only when Pidge stood beside him and took ahold of his wrist, an unreadable look on her face despite the obvious frustrated tears welling in his.

 

* * *

 

                Shiro awaited Keith’s first day at school to conclude with far more enthusiasm than he expected from himself. There was something undeniably proud wiggling in his chest at the mere idea that his son—his own son he had was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to raise—was learning away at school. It left him unspeakably fond, and he felt a little lighter the entirety of the day.

                “You act like it’s your first time seeing your kid off, man. It’s very endearing.” Matt said through a mouthful of fries. Beside him, his boss, Slav, straightened his place setting and took a plate from Shiro.

                “I mean,” It only took a moment before Shiro realized it may not be so obvious to everyone, “It is. So…Man, I hope he’s getting along with the other kids. He texted me earlier saying Hunk was in one of his classes, but I didn’t hear much since. I don’t want him on his phone a lot, so that’s good.”

                “I am sure he is fine.” Slav assured while he went about assembling his burger, one piece at a time. “Shiro, this is three slices of tomatoes, may I have one more?”

                Shiro approached the kitchen with an, “of course, Slav,” amused by Slav’s unabashed demands about his food preparation despite it being their first meeting. Separate plates for everything, tomatoes sliced from the center, beef grilled just so many minutes on either side. It was interesting, and Shiro didn’t mind the methodic work while they were slow, but Matt looked wary when he had first come in, like he was waiting for something to burst.

                “Wait, was Keith homeschooled? Huh.” Matt said to his empty fry basket.

                “Well, yes, for a bit while we were between houses so he wouldn’t fall behind, but—”

                “Keith was adopted. Please, focus on the tomato, Shiro.” Shiro chuckled and let the man speak. “Keith and Shiro moved here two months ago at the finalization of his adoption despite the property being bought for four.”

                “Aw, Shiro, why don’t you tell me anything?” Shiro wondered why Slav would know such a thing, but seeing as they had been neighbors for two months and technically longer even without the restaurant running, maybe word had gotten around despite Keith and Shiro’s unintentional privacy.

                Slav spoke up again, but the door chimed, and Keith walked in stiffly with Pidge in tow. His expression was as telling as a stone wall, and Shiro tensed as he watched it through the window.

                “Hello, you must be Keith.” Slav said at the same time as Matt’s soft, “heya.”

                It was obvious to Shiro something was wrong, but he knew maybe their customers were not so fine tuned. If not Keith’s lack of reply, his blank look gave him away to his father, along with the uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm from the boy to enter the restaurant marking him more a zombie than his determined waiter. Keith’s stiff walk brought him through the kitchen doorway to where Shiro was plating the tomato slice, and when the swinging door smacked his bookbag he held his ground.

                “What’s wrong, buddy?” Shiro asked hesitantly, wondering if Keith would always have dramatic and abnormal reactions to his peers and not being afraid if such was the case, but hoping things at least got easier for the boy.

                Beyond Shiro’s wildest expectations, Keith took one look at Shiro’s face above him, took a deep breath, and burst into tears.

                “Keith?” Shiro cursed his own surprise, using the hand not holding the tomato plate to set a gentle squeeze on his son’s shoulder.

                Keith surged forward in response, latching to Shiro’s sides and shoving his face into his apron. He took a deep breath and made soft blubbering sounds that were so uncharacteristic of him Shiro had to still and take stock of the moment shortly. He rubbed a strong hand down Keith’s small shoulders, trying to be comforting to his son but knowing the action between them was unfamiliar. He had to step up, though, because Keith was coming to him to be comforted and he wanted to be there for him as much as it was his job to be. There was a pang in his chest when Keith didn’t say anything, however, just sniffing and crying into Shiro’s comical apron.

                “Shiro.” Slav’s voice carried over again, “My tomato?”

                Matt, a little more intuitive, heard Keith’s crying and seemed like he was trying to angle himself properly over the counter to see into the kitchen, but Pidge’s small hands were pulling on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.

                “Keith, buddy, why don’t you sit down on a stool over here.” Shiro, still in his son’s grip, reached over the boy to grab the kitchen stool they had used to reach the crown molding when they had been painting the restaurant just a few weeks ago. “Right here, buddy.” The fryer timer went off with Matt’s second order of fries. “And I’ll be back in just a second. Okay?”

                “Okay.” Keith said, voice small, but it took a deep breath from him and a long moment for him to unclench his hands from the sides of Shiro’s shirt.

                “Just a second.” Shiro assured again, dropping a kiss to the top of Keith’s wild locks and bustling around the kitchen. He ripped the batch of fries out of the fryer just as he heard Pidge loudly shush her brother, and while he left that suspended to cool a moment he entered the dining area and set the tomato plate gently by Slav. The scientist looked as if the wait exhausted him, but he only spared Shiro a glance before finishing his burger assembly and beginning to eat.

                “He okay?” Matt asked softly, holding his drink away from Pidge. Shiro began filling a water cup for her immediately.

                As if she just remembered where she was, Pidge paused and looked at Shiro much more critically through her round lenses. He blinked back at her, and she glanced outside before hurriedly sitting down. “I’ll tell you what happened.” She said ferociously, waving Shiro closer.

                Before she could begin, Shiro held up his hand. “Let me get him settled upstairs first, okay? Thank you very much, though, Pidge. Fries on the house.” She smiled something mysteriously wise and nodded before her cheeks bloomed with a flush of innocence and she flipped her placemat over to doodle in the meantime. Shiro set the water in front of her and hurried away again, sliding into the kitchen to scoop Keith immediately into another hug, which he returned immediately.

                “You don’t have to stick around down here, Keith.” Shiro said as he pulled away, noticing the apron that had found its way into Keith’s grip. He looked up at him and Shiro took in his puffy face and wet eyes and brushed back some of his wild bangs. He kept insisting on no haircuts and Shiro wondered if he just thought Shiro’s own long locks were cool enough to mimic. “You can go upstairs and I’ll be up for dinner as soon as I can, okay? A nice break for you.”

                Keith only nodded, ducking his head again to drag a small hand across his eyes and clean up his tears. When Shiro thought maybe his dismissal had been a poor choice seeing Keith’s silence—it had been a while since he had been so overwhelmed instead of his ranting and tangible anger fits that came with his usual types of distress—Keith leaned forward again to hug Shiro one last time before standing up and walking out again with a steely look in his eye. Shiro busied himself with throwing Matt’s fries into a basket and starting Pidge’s free ones the entire time he tracked Keith’s walk through the window, unsure of whether to feel like a failure for being unable to address the problem correctly at the moment or because he had let something happen at all. Keith looked unscathed, at least, disappearing from view, and that was a distinct improvement from previous altercations.

                When he set the basket before Pidge, who had already taken to stealing half of Matt’s, she began her recounting immediately, not even so much as looking up, though she did spare the fraction of a second to shove a warmer fry into her mouth. “Right after class ended, Keith was leaving the school and I was on the swing set waiting for Lance to show up and push me because he owes me thirty-six when Rolo came up behind Keith and grabbed him by the backpack to drag him over to the playground. When they got right by the monkey bars Rolo started talking and I couldn’t hear what he was saying but he reached into Keith’s backpack and pulled out a stuffed animal and I know he found out about it from Nyma because Nyma was texting her friend Florona this morning about how cute it is that a boy isn’t afraid to bring a stuffed animal to school when she saw Keith pull it out really fast when he was switching books between classes.” She paused to sip her water, “Or, that’s what I heard, but it’s from a lot of different sources. Keith just stared at Rolo and then Rolo took the stuffed animal and put it in his bag. Then Mr. Smythe showed up and everyone left. Rolo only took it because he likes Nyma but hates admitting it so he just likes doing really dumb small stuff to show that he likes her. I guess stealing counts.”

                Matt quickly interjected, “Stealing _is not_ a way to show you like somebody ever, okay, Pidge?”

                “ _Katie_.” She huffed, making petals out of exaggerated twos in a picture of a flower, “Okay.” She seemed to remember she was recalling something and looked up to Shiro, “I thought Keith was going to hit him but Mr. Smythe showed up in time, which is no fun because I had my phone out ready to record it. Anyway, the doll is gone. Rolo’s gross and everything he touches gets cooties for life.”

                Unbeknownst to himself, Shiro made a deep wounded noise in the back of his throat, mourning the loss of Armstrong, which he should have known would be in danger when he didn’t see it on Keith’s bed that morning as he delivered laundry. He trusted Pidge’s word, as she didn’t seem inclined to anything that resembled a lie, and Shiro knew that there was progress in Keith’s behavior if that were the case. Not fighting in such a directly confrontational situation, with Keith’s history, was huge, but there were more pressing matters. “I’m going to call the school. What was the first name of that counselor I gave Keith to this morning?” He murmured to himself.

                “Coran Smythe is the one with the funny blue sweater and moustache.” Pidge informed, grabbing a handful of fries and eating them all at once.

 

* * *

 

                Coran Smythe had been little help regarding the missing Armstrong, Shiro discovered when he called immediately following his conversation with Pidge, and he spent the remainder of his open hours in the restaurant and the entirety of his making dinner for himself and Keith thinking of what he could do to help his son in his loss. His little buddy was curled up on the couch with a book, and Shiro wanted to ask him about other parts of school and wonder if his classes had been good and his homework was done, but the missing his oldest toy and friend was such a deep and important blow that there would be no way to brush past that no matter how good the rest of his very first day at school had been.

                Shiro stirred at his spaghetti sauce listlessly, wondering if Keith would have to worry about bullies for a majority of his time in school or if this would just be a fluke of an event. Altea had seemed like such a lively and clean environment, and the Principal and Counselors had seemed like such pleasant people, it was hard to imagine there were such problems, but a wilted flower appeared every now and again needing love, and there was nothing wrong or surprising about that.

                “Keith.” Shiro called as he drained the pasta and furrowed his brows. He heard Keith get up before he heard a soft question in reply, and he bid, “Set the table, yeah?”

                “Yeah.” Keith said softly, busying himself with it.

                When they sat to eat, Shiro was the first to speak while hunched over his plate—something he noted always made his foster-home raised son pause at in surprise. Dully, Shiro thought he should get back on his straight spine regimen if only for the sake of Keith’s learned manners. “I talked to your counselor on the phone, he said he’s going to pull in this Rolo kid to his office tomorrow at school and ask him about Armstrong. Try and stay away from him if you can, okay? I don’t want you in any fights.”

                Keith’s free hand curled into a fist on the tabletop as he stabbed into his plate, but he looked a little surprised at the comment, likely unsure of where Shiro had gotten the story. “I didn’t get into a fight.” He said, something careful in his words.

                “Hey,” The older began, much softer as he looked at the little fist, “I know, and I’m really proud of you for that. You did really good, Keith.”

                With his voice tiny and vulnerable, Keith looked down and quietly said, “But I want Armstrong back.”

                And Shiro felt a gorilla’s fist beat in his chest at the overwhelming protectiveness that surged through him for his son. “I know, bud. I’ll see what I can do.” Keith rubbed his face and nodded, and Shiro raised a hand to ruffle his hair gently, pausing when the doorbell rang.

                “Well, who’s that?” Shiro said out loud as he stood, talking to himself but patting Keith’s head again as he passed him by. The doorbell rang again as Shiro set down the stairs, and he hopped to the landing and yanked the door open to find a thin arm poised to ring it even a third time.

                “Uh.” Lance flinched, “Hi, Mr. Shiro.” His other arm was awkwardly tucked behind his back and he yanked back the one near the doorbell to give a small wave.

                “Lance.” Shiro said, a polite smile on his face as he resisted the urge to rub his eyes, “What can I do for you?”

                The younger boy seemed like he was trying to peek around Shiro’s large frame, and over the top of his head Shiro could see lights flicking off in the Cuban restaurant across the street, their closing just an hour and half or so after Shiro’s own. Giving up on peeking, Lance nervously asked, “Is—is Keith home? He lives with you, right?”

                “Yes, he lives with me.” Shiro answered immediately, blinking at the question, “He’s not very ready for friends right now. It’s not a good time, sorry. And it’s a little late.”

                Lance flinched as someone called his name across the street, a pained expression taking over his face as he bounced on his heels and looked antsy standing in one place. “Okay. I get it. Okay, can you—” Suddenly, a mass of blue was revealed from behind his back, and he shoved it forward into Shiro’s surprised arms, “Can you tell Keith I’m sorry his friend got stolen and this is Sapphire and he can _borrow_ her for now.” The softest beat of silence ensued where Shiro just stared at the offering—a whale shark plush with a stretched out, cartoony smile—and Lance threw it so he wouldn’t have to hold it in the air. “This has no effect on our rivalry. Okay, bye!” He called, booking it across the street to where someone was calling his name again.

                Shiro fumbled to catch the doll and stared down at its smiling face, the bizarreness of the situation not lost on him. “Okay?” He huffed a laugh in surprise, glancing up just in time to see an SUV pull away from the darkened restaurant of his neighbor. When he climbed the stairs again, Keith was still poking listlessly at his pasta, but he glanced at Shiro’s re-arrival and furrowed his brows at the whale in his clutches.

                After swallowing and watching Shiro turn the doll over gently in his hands, Keith dubiously asked, “What’s that?”

                Shiro wondered if he should be delicate, not sure which boy had caused such a potent reaction in Keith yesterday still, but it wasn’t like he could avoid he question. “Our neighbor Lance dropped that off because he said he was sorry about you losing Armstrong. He said you could borrow her.” When the sound of a chair screeching on linoleum sounded, Shiro glanced back at his son to see his face blanketed in red and his expression rigid as he stared at his pasta. “You remember him, right?” He couldn’t help but tease, knowing he had answered his own mystery if Keith’s literal jolt in his seat was anything to go by, “He said her name is Sapphire.”

                Stuffing pasta into his face at an alarming pace, Keith only gave a hurried nod while he chewed, likely trying to drown his embarrassment. “Slow, kiddo.” Shiro bid, but Keith only nodded through more bites. “I’m going to throw her in your room.”

                “SET.” Keith said loudly, clearing his throat and covering his still food-filled mouth.

                Shiro looked from the entryway to see Keith’s wide eyes on the doll, and he quirked his brows at the outburst. Keith continued, after a few swallows and with a much better controlled volume, “Don’t just throw her…I don’t want Lance to think I can’t take care of his stuff.”

                Despite himself, Shiro laughed loudly and Keith looked away fast, stabbing his plate again. “Okay, okay, I’ll _set_ her down on your bed. Wash your plate when you’re done there, speed racer. You finish any homework?” Keith nodded again, much slower, and Shiro wandered off to his son’s room to set the whale shark away, knocking back the model planes and rockets that were hung just low enough on the ceiling to bump into his head every time he crossed beyond the line of the door.

                Keith was done with his food when Shiro was back, already rinsing his plate and setting it to dry on the side. Without needing to be asked, Keith pulled out plastic containers to hold their leftovers and started piling the rest of the food into them while Shiro got back to finishing his own plate. “So,” Shiro started obviously, “Whenever you’re ready I’m very excited to hear about your day.” A pout pulled at Keith’s face, snapping the top onto the sauce, but he sat down again fully.

 

* * *

 

                Shiro expected to have to go through an entire ordeal with contacting this Rolo child’s parents and citing school surveillance during the next few days when Mr. Smythe had called him back the next morning with no luck, which Shiro would have pursued gladly for the sake of Keith’s comfort and safety in his new school, but by the time the last day of Keith’s first week of school rolled around, the problem seemed to have fixed itself.

                Keith adjusted to school as wonderfully as Shiro had hoped he would, sporting two friendship bracelets on his wrist tentatively by that Thursday and admitting to feeling awkward but liking his classmates so far. Hunk and Lance were the most frequent visitors to the restaurant during its after-school hours, and it was clear Keith was trying to work through his smitten feelings with little progress, but it wasn’t a hinderance to their business no matter how much Lance mentioned the neighborhood rivalry because the boys were quite frankly very polite and energetic. Pidge showed up daily after school for a new order of fries, and Shiro kept that in mind in the back of his head despite not being any form of responsible for her because while Matt seemed like a nice enough young man he didn’t seem the most observant at all times, and maybe he wasn’t aware it wasn’t the healthiest after-school snack for her to have continuously. Overall, Shiro was glad to be adapted to the atmosphere of his restaurant by the end of Keith’s very first week where he had adapted to school as well, knowing regulars from their street already and keeping in mind what times he had clocked their rushes to be dependent on and when Keith usually sauntered in by.

                What surprised him at the end of that week and became an inevitable saving grace, however, was Lance running into the restaurant ten minutes before he usually accounted for the boys wandering in on their walk home. There was a frantic look in his eye as the door slammed closed behind him and Shiro stared at him in the empty restaurant from across the bar. Adding to the surprise, there were scratches along the side of his face, and the beginnings of what looked like swelling just on the edge of his chin. “Hi, Mr. Shiro.” He muttered, rubbing at his nose and hunching in a clear display of self-consciousness.

                “Lance.” Shiro acknowledged lightly, setting down the rag he was using to clean the counter and looking under the surface to see where he had last set the first aid kit. “Are you alright?”

                “Yeah!” Lance replied immediately, hopping onto a bar stool. “Keith isn’t here yet, right? I ran here, so I guess I got here first. Um.” He set his hands on the counter to fidget with his fingers, and Shiro raised a brow at the scuffs and scratches on them as well. “Can I get a coke?”

                The door burst open again, revealing a panting Hunk pointing an accusing finger at Lance. “Your mom is going to _kill_ you!” He blurted, and Lance flinched and hunched more. “Hi, Mr. Shiro.” Hunk added as an afterthought, scrambling into the seat beside Lance. His expression was intense and unwavering from the side of Lance’s face, and Lance refused to meet his eye.

                “I’ll get you a coke. Anything for you, Hunk?” Shiro said carefully, flicking a wary glance between the two boys. He wondered if it would be the neighborly and right thing to go across the street and properly introduce himself to Lance’s mother finally, if not just to bring the concern of her son up briefly, but he couldn’t leave the restaurant unattended. Hunk shook his head, and Shiro busied himself with the glasses.

                Lance played with folding and unfolding a menu while Hunk rambled beside him. “Do you remember what she used to be like when Marco would get in fights all the time? Lance, you’re _dead._ She’s going to rip your _ears off.”_ Silently, Shiro wondered if maybe the boys had a rowdy streak he should be wary of, but he didn’t want to dictate who Keith was growing attached to if he was forming relationships at all, which was a tricky situation.

                “Can I have cheese fries, please, Mr. Shiro?” Lance asked quietly to Shiro’s turned back, and Shiro glanced at him to see his embarrassed and pained expression and knew these boys were probably the least poorly behaved he’d ever met, and therefore nothing he actually had to worry about.

                “Of course. I’ll get that right out.” Shiro said, trying to give a calm and kind smile to the discouraged looking kid and pausing when Keith finally sauntered in with Pidge holding his shirt by the cuff of his sleeve. She climbed onto her seat first, and Keith blinked at Lance and Hunk beating him there.

                “Keith!” Lance exclaimed, jolting in his seat and twisting on the stool. His backpack wacked into Hunk, who grunted in annoyance.

                “Hey.” Keith said back with false composure, his cheeks darkening. “What’s up?”

                Shiro moved for the door to the kitchen but watched the exchange with interest, his brows furrowing at the embarrassment clear in Lance’s demeanor. Quickly, he threw off his backpack, which bumped into Hunk again, and began digging into it. “I, um, I went to go get this for you.”

                “What happened to your face?” Keith blurted as he got closer, freezing when Lance procured a soft hippopotamus plushie.

                Lance babbled without answering, “I asked Nyma to get it from Rolo because he’s, like, her boyfriend or whatever but she wouldn’t so she told me where he was because she owes me a favor because in fourth grade she stole my bike. Uh.” He held out the doll more insistently, flicking his gaze away, “Sorry he took it. I know I don’t have to apologize for him and I don’t even know him really but that wasn’t cool.”

                Hunk mumbled, “He’s been saving that favor since then…”

                Keith’s hands closed around Armstrong slowly, jerking him a little quickly from Lance’s grip. “Did he hurt you?” He asked, staring down at the doll in wonder and tugging softly at its arms to make sure everything was in place.

                “No—well, yeah, but it’s fine.” Lance turned to hunch over the bar again, hiding his red face, “He shouldn’t bother you anymore.”

                “We have band-aids. Um.” Keith booked it around the counter as soon as he saw Lance’s scratched hands, setting Armstrong down gently and freezing when he caught Shiro’s warm smile. He shook his head quickly to cut the look off, and Shiro chuckled as he finally filed to the back. “I’ll get Sapphire for you in a minute. Here.” Keith pulled the first aid kit open and started rooting through it, and Pidge tugged her placemat away from it to flip over and begin her scribbling. Much quieter, while he handed the box of red band-aids over, Keith said, “That’s Armstrong.”

                Lance, around his shy eyes, smiled at the hippo set beside him and took the box. “Cool.”

**Author's Note:**

> Little note: I wanted to make Shiro a little messy in this fic, at least at the beginning, because he's a little goofy under his serious character and he's a few months out from adopting a 12 year old, and that's got to leave a guy a little scatterbrained at the very least. He's also still recovering from a piloting accident in this canon, which is where his injuries come from, but a lot of heavier stuff like that won't be addressed because it's real lighthearted in tone and I want to keep it that way because this story's all about how much Shiro loves his adopted son and how Keith adapts to a family setting and the world around him now that he's been adopted.
> 
> Also listen...I know we don't usually do chapter fics...but it's going to be okay.
> 
> Don't hesitate to let me know what you think ♥♥♥♥
> 
> The song from the title of this chapter is: [here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jexb1PpzRp0)♥ (this one gets stuck in my head ALL the time)
> 
> [My Tumblr ♥](https://2towels.tumblr.com/) (asks and blurb requests are always open)
> 
> (If anyone's wondering about what happened to my KlanceWeek obviously it's...very late lmao but I had all the ideas very clearly outlined this time around so those fics will eventually all be out it'll just be embarrassing how late they are, thanks for sticking around anyway ♥)


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